Mother of Neverland
by kitsune21809
Summary: If a dream needs a dreamer, what would happen if he lost her? Gravely injured, Peter Pan finds himself battling death itself. Now Neverland is in danger of losing its protector and it's up to Jane to return once again, and breathe life back into the legend.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so, I've been writing on this on and off for a few years. I've lost it to two computer crashes and because I'm incredibly paranoid, I'm posting it here. Also because I've been getting a lot of comments on the YouTube trailer I made for it from people who wanted to read it. It's slow going. Like I said, I've been working on and off for a few years, so don't expect a lot of quick updates. I also have a bad habit of changing stuff when I finally _do_ come back to writing something, so expect that too. If I do change something I'll leave a note but I'll try to keep from doing that as much as I can.

Umm. I had wrote out the story plan for this when I was...14?...I think. I'm 21, now and looking it over I don't really like it anymore, it seems kinda cliche, but I'm gonna work it around some. If you want to see the trailer for this story, it's on YouTube with the same title.

I don't use betas so if you find a grammatical error, please excuse. Normally, I find them when I read back through before a post but I do tend to miss a few, so please bear with me.

Flames are fine, if you have a problem, everyone is entitled to an opinion, but please message me directly and no swearing. Also, please no comments on when I'm going to update next, like I said, it's not a scheduled thing. There's not a lot of art for this story on my DA, other than a grown up version of Peter Pan and Jane, that's about it. I'll get around to doing more. The link is in my profile if your interested.

If you have questions, please feel free to message me. :)

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Summary: If a dream needs a dreamer, what would happen if he lost her? Gravely injured, Peter Pan finds himself battling death itself. Now Neverland is in danger of losing its protector and it's up to Jane to return once again, and breathe life back into the legend.

**Mother of Neverland**

Chapter 1

_Memory is the selection of images - some elusive, others printed indelibly on the brain. Each image is like a thread, each thread woven together, to make a tapestry of intricate texture. And the tapestry tells a story and the story is our past…_

**–Eve's Bayou.**

There was a stitch of pain in his side and he faltered mid-flight, his body dropping several feet before he regained himself. Flying had never been so hard. He'd never needed happy thoughts to fly before; it had always come naturally. Now he was fighting to find them. Peter landed clumsily on the rooftop of the Darling household, his feet slipping on the shingles, slick from a recent rain. He sucked in a breath and sat still a moment, his heart rate slowing. His body ached and burned with fever. Sweat dappled his brow, and he wiped it away with tired hands. They were shaking as he clenched them.

'Jane. I have to get Jane.'

A tinkling of bells beside his ear caught his attention and he turned, swatting the little, golden fairy away. "I'm fine, Tink." He said tensely. He knew she was worried, but he didn't like to be petted or fawned over. He wasn't a baby. Tinkerbell crossed her arms and glared at him and he glared back.

A light flicked on below them and slowly he crawled to the edge of the roof to peer over. A woman (a small woman, he thought, she wasn't much taller than he was) with red-gold hair walked to the window's edge, brushing the long, damp locks over her shoulder and braiding it with nimble fingers. On the breeze he caught a whiff of her scent, freshly cleaned from her bath, she smelled like flowers and perfume. It rustled the gossamer fabric of her bathrobe, revealing petite ankles and slender calves as she perched on the window seat. She was humming, her voice soft and gentle, like a mother's voice. Peter sighed and crept closer so he was hiding just around the window sill. 'Wendy.' He thought wistfully. He missed her.

When she turned, he ducked back behind the wall but he'd seen her face. Sure he'd been tricked somehow, he chanced another look. That was not Wendy perched in the window seat. It was Jane.

Her face and body had changed with age and while she wasn't as old as her mother had been when he saw her last, she most certainly wasn't a child anymore. Something inside him shattered at this realization, because it meant that she couldn't help him after all. He sunk back against the wall; his breath burned in his chest and fought the urge to cry.

Jane turned away from the window when her mother called for her somewhere downstairs. Peter waited until her door closed before burying his head in his arms. He was a strong boy, he didn't cry often but he cried now. Neverland was dying, and he thought with childish hope that if he could find Jane and bring her back maybe, just maybe, she could save his home. But Jane – like all the others he'd known and left behind – had grown up. He doubted she even remembered him let alone believed. And when a dream has no dreamer, it cannot last.

A thousand plus years of stories and adventures and…he was going to die.

Tinkerbell tugged at his hair, and he looked up through watery brown eyes. "It's over Tink." He said and she shook her head. **'Get Jane! Jane can help!'**She said, her voice ringing around him. Peter sniffed and wiped furiously at his nose and eyes. "No! She's too old now."

She looked like she might argue but he took off before she could. With a resigned sigh, she glanced back at the window then at Peter who struggled to fly a steady line. She followed after him, knew how stubborn he could be. But she could be stubborn too, and she was determined to get Jane's help one way or another.

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She dreamed of Neverland. That she was flying over that all too familiar island and it was dark and frightening. The waters, once so clear and blue had turned black. The flowers, once so vibrant and colorful, were gone, replaced by craggy trees with gnarled and knotted limbs.

Hook was fighting Peter again. Jane wasn't really sure how it had started or when, she only knew that they were fighting. The ship was lying on its side in the shallows, a gaping hole in its flank and frozen to the shore by great pillars of ice, sharp and white like the grinning visage of some monstrous beast.

Half the crew lay scattered in the water, swimming to shore while a handful had already made it and were standing on the sidelines' cheering their captain on. Hook was enraged, his face beet red with purple veins ready to pop out of his forehead.

"Get down here you bastard!" Hook screamed, his sword stabbing at the air around his opponent as he dodged. "I'm going to rip the skin from your bones, I'm going to tear every limb from your devilish body and feed you to that damnable crocodile!"

Peter, who almost always held a cocky little grin whenever he fought the bumbling pirate, held no such smile now. He was bleeding just under his right rib, the blood dripping down his side and making his clothes cling to his frame. He was slower than usual, dark circles under his eyes.

Something, a blur of a memory that was not her own bled into her mind's eye. For a moment, she saw Hook cackling manically to himself in his cabin. A vial, holding a dark red substance clutched in his hand as he poured the contents over his sword. Somehow, she knew that it was poison.

The fight appeared again, and Peter flew higher, pressing his fingers over his wound to staunch the bleeding. Faintly, Jane wondered where Tinkerbell was as there was rarely a moment without the fairy by his side. She flew closer to Peter, but he was bigger somehow, larger than she remembered. He turned to her, grimacing. "It hurts, Tink." He whimpered and she was suddenly starkly reminded of just how young he was.

Jane frowned. Why had he called her that? She wasn't Tinkerbell, she was Jane. She opened her mouth to tell him so but an explosion of noise interrupted her. Jane looked back toward the beach where Hook squatted in the sand, rifle cocked at his shoulder, grinning. She panicked, tried to push him out of the way but he was too big.

The shot was loud, and it deafened her. Peter screamed as it grazed his shoulder and sent him hurling out of the sky and down into the jungle below. Hook sat stunned, then his brows lowered as he motioned towards his men. "Get him! I want to be good and sure this time."

The scene changed before she could go after him and Jane found herself in the hideout. Peter sat in his bed, wrapping a crude bandage around his shaking arm while she tended his side. What a brave, young boy he was. Where she would have been a crying mess had she been shot at that age, he was taking it in stride. She didn't know whether to be awestruck or afraid. Wondered briefly what other injuries he could have possibly endured to have built up such a tolerance. "We have to get Jane." He was telling her. "She can help us. She beat Hook before, she can help us beat him again."

Jane shook her head. "But I'm right here, I'm here Peter." But he didn't seem to hear. He stood shakily, sweat dotted his brow. He was very sick, she could tell. He needed rest.

His breathing was labored and though she tried to touch him her hand passed through, as if he were no more than air.

"Peter!" She called but he began to fade away, everything began to disappear. "I'm here Peter! I'm here!"

**'Help us, Jane.' **A voice, soft and gentle, like the ring of bells echoed in the darkness. **'****He's dying. I don't know what to do. Please Jane.'**

"Who are you?" She called out.

**'Wake up, Jane.'**

Jane frowned, confused. "What…?"

**'Wake up…'**

She jolted awake, nearly colliding head first with Tinkerbell who'd been hovering above her, tiny hands perched gently between her eyes. It took a moment to register what she was seeing, and even longer to hear the frantic chiming of the fairy's voice.

"Tinkerbell?!"

The little fairy flew a ways toward the window then back, motioning for her to follow. Jane swept the coverlet aside and stood shakily. "Tinkerbell, what are you doing here? Where's Peter?"

Tinkerbell shouted something at her, but she couldn't understand and it showed plainly on her face. Jane's dream flooded back to her and she scooped the fairy up into her hands. "Tink, what happened?"

Tinkerbell took fistfuls of her own hair in her hands and pulled in exasperation. She waved at the window, mimed choking, and falling and then lay still. Jane's heart lurched. "Peter?" Tinkerbell nodded and pointed towards the window.

"He's sick, he may be dying! I have to help him; you have to take me to him!"

Jane ran to the window and flung it wide. The night air swirled around her, swept into the room blowing the curtains into a frenzy. A storm was coming, thunder rumbled in the distance. "Wait." She said. She looked down, suddenly realizing that she couldn't remember how to fly. She'd forgotten somehow. Tinkerbell turned back, and she looked so torn and lost that it scared her. Jane backed away and crossed the room to her desk. She had to breathe, she had to take a moment and think this through. Her mother would be frantic if she woke to find her gone, and…if Peter _was _sick, he would need medicine which was something she didn't have. Looking down at herself she also realized she couldn't go traipsing back to Neverland in her socks and gown again. Remembered all too well how hard it had been last time.

She took a black bag from under her bed. A girl can learn a lot during a war and at sixteen, Jane had already learned so much. She often volunteered as a nurse's aide at the hospital, and while she wasn't allowed to help much, she _was_ allowed to bandage and care for the less critical patients fresh from the battlefield. But all the medicine was at the hospital; she'd have to break in and told as much to her companion. Tinkerbell brushed a hand through her bangs and kept glancing at the sky, where thick, heavy rainclouds blotted out the stars. Her fingers fumbled together in front of her nervously. They should hurry, if not, they might not beat the storm.

Jane went to her dresser and changed into a pair of worn trousers she'd hidden away during the war and a button up blouse. Her mother didn't like that she wore them, said that young ladies weren't meant to dress as men do, but times were changing. Jane didn't very well see the sense in flying around in a skirt where any male eye could glance up to see her unmentionables. No, she'd had to dress as a boy often enough while scrounging the streets for food and supplies, she didn't feel so perturbed by it now.

While the shirt fit her, the pants were about two sizes too large. She tightened one of her father's old belts around her waist and sweeping her short-ish braid behind her, went to the desk again. Tinkerbell alighted on her shoulder as she scribbled a note to her family.

Stepping back, she read it over, swallowed the butterflies in her stomach and settled the letter over her pillow.

"Ready?" She said to no one in particular. Stepping up on the window seat, she tried desperately to steady her trembling by rubbing hands together. Jane took several deep breaths as Tinkerbell doused her in dust, feeling the slight tingle seep into her skin. Suddenly, the ground seemed to rise up to meet her, mocking her. What if she wasn't able to fly, what if she was too old now?

Tinkerbell motioned for her and the desperate pleading in her face urged her on. Jane closed her eyes and stepped off the ledge.

The wind rushed around her as she fell, a scream froze in her throat and the ground rushed up to meet her. Peter, Neverland, the Lost Boys, they all flashed in her mind and just as she thought she would hit, she stopped.

She floated mid-air, heart racing, tears burning behind her eyes, fear and adrenaline slicing through her veins. She thought again of them, thought of the hideout, of treasure hunting, of pirates and fairies and pixie dust and Indians and mermaids.

When she opened her eyes again, the ground was far below her and Tinkerbell was patting her cheek worriedly. "I-I'm fine, Tink." She said shakily. "Let's go."

It was difficult at first, she thought that if she ever stopped thinking of Neverland that she'd plummet again to her death and while she wobbled in the air every now and then, she didn't fall. She was more than relieved when the hospital came into view and she landed in the alley behind.

She jiggled the handle on the back door. It was locked but she could pick it easily enough with a bobby pin and wasted no time in doing so. Easing the door open, she peeked inside. She found herself in the kitchens. It was dark, a shaft of light under the opposite door her only sign that anyone was still around. Stepping inside, Jane gently closed the door behind her. A glitter of light caught her attention and she turned her head a little. Tinkerbell hovered by her shoulder, and it was only then that Jane realized that the little fairy emitted a sort of glow about her that could prove dangerous if it were to draw any attention. "Tink, I need you to hide for a little bit. Can you do that for me?" She held open her breast pocket and waited while the little fairy stared hesitantly between it and her face.

"It won't be for long, I promise." She reassured her.

With a gentle sigh, Tinkerbell flew down and settled herself comfortably inside. Satisfied, Jane hefted her bag over her shoulder and quietly stepped into the hall. The storage room was just around the corner, she'd be in and out in no time flat, assuming no one was about this late.

She hurried down the hall, ducking into one of the doorways when a night shifts orderly walked by, yawning sleepily and shuffling through and armful of paperwork. When the hall cleared again she practically ran the rest of the way to the storage room. The lights were off when she went in, and she flipped them on. She didn't have long, somebody was bound to notice and come investigate.

"Okay, Tink." She said, prying open her shirt pocket. Tinkerbell shot out of her hiding place and settled on a nearby shelf while Jane rummaged through the cabinets, stuffing her bag with what she thought she might need.

"Is he feverous? Does he have chills, what about injuries? Is he injured?" She asked, receiving a frantic nod in return. "Where?"

Tinkerbell mimed a gash under her right arm, where her ribs were and another at her shoulder. Jane paused, her hand hovering over a vial of penicillin. "That dream." She murmured. "It was you. Those were _your_ memories, weren't they?" She asked the fairy.

Tinkerbell paused, bit her lip and wrung her hands in front of her before giving a curt nod.

"And that voice, asking for my help, that was you too?"

Another nod, then an impatient gesture towards the cabinet. "But…"

Voices in the hallway interrupted her and Jane gasped as shadows danced behind the crack under the door. "Hide!" She whispered urgently as she turned back to the fairy. Tinkerbell dove into her pocket and Jane searched frantically around the room for a place to hide. The door opened and a tall, lanky man entered, light glinting off his spectacles. Jane's pulse leapt into her throat. It was Doctor Shuler, who wasn't particularly fond of her to begin with. He glanced up from the clipboard he was carrying and frowned.

"Miss Darling, tell me, why am I not surprised to find you skulking about at such a late hour?" He asked derisively. Jane rubbed her arm as she carefully eased herself around him. "I am very sorry, Doctor, I forgot to take inventory before I left and…"

"Be that as it may, Miss Darling, that doesn't give you free roam of the hospital whenever you so please."

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a saucy retort and nodded. She was on thin ice as it was and didn't need to lose her job over this. "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

He angled his head down at her, his glasses sliding down his nose to reveal two glaring, green eyes. "See that it doesn't."

"Yes sir."

His eyes narrowed as he took her in. "What are you wearing?" He sneered. Jane almost choked as she glanced down at herself then back up again. She'd forgotten she was dressed like a boy. She grinned sheepishly. "Oh, would you look at that!" She laughed nervously. "Why, I-I've gone and…you see I-um." She paused, trying to frantically come up with a solution. "I sleepwalk."

Dr. Shuler quirked a brow at her in annoyance. "Sleepwalk?" He asked irritation etched clearly in the word.

Jane smiled and rocked on her heels. "Oh yes, must have went and dreamt I was a boy again, silly me! You know, one time I dreamt I could fly and leapt right out my window! Broke my arm in two places…"

The doctor removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "Miss Darling…"

"Oh but I won't bore you with the details. Goodbye, Doctor. Have a pleasant night." She smiled her best smile and fought the urge to roll her eyes as she backed out of the room.

"Indeed." Was his only reply as he turned away.

With the door closed safely behind her, Jane took off in a dead sprint back to the alley. Any minute now and he'd likely discover the missing prescriptions. Tinkerbell poked her head out of her hiding place. Jane ignored her, focusing instead on being as quick and quiet as possible as she maneuvered her way through the kitchens towards the back. Another nurse crossed her path and she bumped her shoulder causing the box of bandages she was carrying to scatter across the floor. "Hey, watch it!" She yelled as Jane stumbled past her.

"Sorry!"

She heard shouts down the hall just as she reached the kitchen and began to panic. She couldn't get caught! At least when she got back she could lie her way out of losing her job, but if she was caught, she might as well kiss it all goodbye.

She reached the back door, fumbled with the lock a moment then flung it wide. Her feet had left the ground before she'd even left the doorway. She shot up into the air like a rocket, hiding behind a smokestack as the doctor stormed out shortly after. He looked up and down the street for a few minutes then with a growl, he turned and went back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Jane slumped against the smokestack and didn't bother to suppress the laugh that bubbled up from her throat. That had been too close for comfort. Tinkerbell hovered in front of her and patted her cheek impatiently. Jane sighed and shuffled through the contents of her bag. She would have liked to have gotten more, but there was no time and it was impossible to go back now. "It'll have to do." She muttered.

A drop of rain splashed down on her arm, then another. She looked up as rain started to sprinkle around them, steadily growing. "Can you still fly if your wings get wet?" She asked because somewhere she'd heard that if an insect gets its wings wet, it can't fly. She didn't know if the same applied to fairies. Tinkerbell stood on her shoulder, wringing her hands nervously and stared up at the sky. She shook her head and Jane opened her shirt pocket so she could hide inside.

"I'll get us there." She promised. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she took a deep breath and shot into the sky.

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Chapter 2 is halfway done, so you can expect it soon. Comment on what you think and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Not a very long chapter I know but I'm still trying to get my thoughts together for this story so just bear with me. I would have waited until the whole story was finished before I uploaded it but a lot of people have been asking about it for a while now. **

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Chapter 2

By the time she reached Neverland, Jane was cold and tired and soaked to the bone in freezing rain. She wouldn't be too surprised if she too got sick after this whole excursion. The wind whipped at her hair, burning her face and freezing her clothes to her skin. It hurt, she wouldn't deny that, but she harried on anyway.

As the clouds dispersed and the little island came into view, Jane's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen snippets of it in her dream, but she was no less surprised by the chaos that had been wrought. Everything, from the balmy wind to the brightest flower, seemed dead now. Or dying. The sea was frozen, great spikes of ice gripping at Hook's ship which still lay beached on its side in the shallows. The forest was black and frightening below her. The life had been sucked out of the land, leaving behind nothing but a shell of what it once was. Jane closed her eyes and bit her lip. This was awful; it was a nightmare. Tinkerbell emerged from her pocket and Jane followed her to the boy's hideout. The jungle was deathly silent; even the beasts had gone still and it scared her.

Hangman's Tree sat snuggled in a little grove, tucked away so cleverly that it was nearly impossible to find if you did not know where to look for it. The only trace of its existence was a low hanging branch with a tattered noose swinging from its neck, the rest having been hidden away by a curtain of thick, mossy vines. She would have guessed this was Peter's doing, seeing as Hook had found it so easily before. The tree itself, which had always been rather distorted, seemed haunting now. Its limbs like reaching claws waiting for her, urging her into its grasp. Where once the sound of children's laughter had filled the grove, now only silence stifled the air. Where were the boys?

Tinkerbell disappeared inside the twisted trunk and soon after a hidden door opened, revealing a dim light from within. Jane crawled into the opening, thankful that she was still small enough to fit and screamed as her hand slipped on the muddy roots. She slid headfirst down the hole, coming to land harshly at the bottom in a boneless heap. With a pained groan, she flipped onto her back and propped up on an elbow as she rubbed her jaw. She'd hit something, she wasn't sure what but she _was_ sure there would be a bruise there tomorrow. Looking around, she found herself in what she remembered was the main room. A few beds scattered here and there, a fireplace built into the tree's girth, a rickety table in the corner, and a couple of other doorways. It's looked relatively the same as the last time she was here and yet…different somehow. An enormous kettle was boiling over the fire. Wrinkling her nose at the noxious steam rolling out of it, Jane wondered what witch's brew the boy's were concocting for supper, but once she took a look, she saw that it was only the washing. Unable to remember having ever seen a clean piece of linen on the premises, she found herself not so surprised at the smell.

She didn't see the boys, or Peter for that matter, which worried her. "Tinkerbell." She called out quietly turning as she heard the familiar jingle from behind a looming bearskin. She pushed it aside and sighed in relief. There were the boys, curled up sleeping on the floor around Peter's bed. Tinkerbell sat by his head, her tiny arms wrapped around equally tiny legs as she stared at him.

Picking her way through the crowd of children lining the floor, Jane settled on the side of the mattress and removed the bag from her shoulder. She swept a hand over his forehead, and her breath hitched. His skin was close to molten and clammy with sweat and dirt. She lifted the blanket to see the outer edges of a makeshift bandage made of some type of plant. In the dim light, his entire side looked greasy wet with fresh blood. The bed was sticky with it and when Jane pulled the leaves aside, her stomach rolled violently. It had become infected, flaming red with spots of black and purple lining the edges of a puss swollen knot. Dread shivered through her with a coldness that was oppressing, and a vision of a sheet draped litter being taken to the brick morgue flashed through her mind. Angrily she pushed the thought away, rejecting the possibility, yet her lips moved in a silent fervent prayer. He groaned painfully when she brushed her fingers around it and flinched away. His shoulder, while smaller, was no better off.

"This is bad. I need to boil some water. Tink, get the boys out of here, they don't need to see this." Tinkerbell hesitated, unwilling to leave his side. Jane stood and scooped her up as well. "He'll be fine, Tink. But we have to hurry. He may be bleeding to death."

She fairly flew out of the room while Tinkerbell worked at rousing the boys, and focused on finding a pot in the utter mess that had become their kitchen. She assumed it was a kitchen, there were cabinet sized holes carved into the tree wall, housing all manner of cutlery and dishes, all bent and worn from over use. There was a tub propped on a stool in the corner, where a wooden pipe stuck out of the wall to release a fresh flow of water. She wondered at the plumbing and who had built it. For such young boys, she would have thought it too advance for them. Did they have help somehow? There was even a rudimentarily built stone oven against the far wall, lined with brick and stone. It didn't make sense; these boys couldn't have been this architecturally advanced.

Finally, she found a wrought iron pot just as the first lost boy emerged from the room, though with her back turned, she didn't notice him until she heard a somewhat frightened voice.

"Jane?"

Almost dropping the pot, she turned in surprise and smiled. It was Slightly, standing timidly by the door. His hood was down and his messy blonde locks fell into his watery blue eyes. He looked scared to death, a weariness about him that should not be seen on any child. Jane put the pot down. "Hey. Long time no see, huh?"

Maybe it was the familiar ease with which she spoke, or the gentle tone in her voice, or the slight dimple in her smile. Whatever it was, recognition dawned on him. This woman, this grown-up, was _Jane_. Jane was back.

Relief, happiness, excitement, all seemed to cross his face at once and in three quick bounds, he had crossed the distance between them and thrown his arms around her waist. "Jane! You came back!"

This exclamation alerted the others who quickly filed into the room one after the other. And after the initial shock of her appearance wore off, she was tackled again by the mass that was her boys. Jane dropped to her knees, engulfing them in her arms and holding them tight while they cried. Shouts of 'We missed you', and 'I was so scared', and 'Something's wrong with Peter', echoed around her.

"I know." She said, pulling away. "I missed you too. And don't worry, I came to help. Peter will be fine. But for now, I need you to stay in here."

They pouted, some looking a little defiant at being torn from their leader. Jane stood and took the pot again. "I could really use your help. Think you could get some water boiling for me?"

It was Cubby who took it from her with a gleeful shout of, "I'll do it!"

This of course started a fight as every boy clambered to help. Jane put fingers to her lips and blew a shrill whistle until every eye was back on her. "One of you get the water going." She said authoritively. "I also need clean linens, scissors or a knife, and something I can use for a light."

The boys seemed to stare at her in amazement. No one gave orders but Peter, and though she sounded like Peter, she most certainly was _not_ Peter. But, Peter was sick, so did that mean she _was_ the leader now?

When nobody moved, Jane snapped her fingers. "Well, c'mon! We have to hurry, he's very sick."

That sent them flying into motion, no questions asked. Jane sighed and smothered down a smile. Rolling up her sleeves, she hurried back into the room with her patient. As she entered, she set about pulling the dirtied blankets from the bed and left them in a heap on the floor. His pants, which seemed to be the only thing he was wearing, were filthy, coated in dirt and blood and who knew what else. Slightly, the eldest lost boy next to Peter himself, came in with a large pan of steaming water and a few towels draped over his arms. She quickly blocked the wound from him and he frowned.

"It's ok Jane. I already saw."

She hesitated, but he was trying to be brave and she had to commend him for it. Besides, she would need another pair of hands larger than her fae companions'. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and she pried the cloth away again. He paled and swallowed thickly upon seeing the wound but after closing his eyes for a few seconds, seemed to recover easily. Relief as well as no small amount of pride swelled within her at this. "Hand me those." She said pointing at the pair of scissors stuffed into his pocket. He did and she plucked at the hem of Peter's pants. It came away wet and sticky and she grimaced. "You think you might be able to round up a needle and thread to sew these britches back together if I cut open the seam?" She asked as he went to stand beside her. "It might tear the wound if I try to pull them down, and the infection will only fester if we leave them."

Slightly nodded. "I'll get it from the town if I have to."

Jane set about cutting the seam and paused in thought. "Town?"

"Hook built a town in Pirate's Cove a little after you left. It's filled with nothing but whores and other pirates." He told her and she held back a gasp as his foul language. A town? She would have to check into it later, it was likely they had a doctor of their own. And where there's a doctor, there's medicine. "Don't they have a doctor?" She asked turning back to her work. "Why wasn't he seen when this happened?"

Slightly hesitated in answering, pulling at the ears of his rabbit costume. "Children…lost boys aren't allowed. There's a law." He muttered. She glanced back. "A law?"

He stared at Peter's face and his lip trembled. He was one of the smarter of the younger boys, he knew how bad it had gotten, knew Peter needed help. "If we enter the town and are caught…" He paused, unsure if he should tell her. Would she be angry? Afraid?

Jane snapped her fingers, drawing his attention. "Slightly, what is it? What is the law?"

"If we're caught, we'll be hanged." He whispered morbidly. Her movements froze and she turned to him. "Hanged?" Surely it wasn't true. No one could be so cruel as to exile a group of children upon threat of death? But she remembered the madness in Hook's eyes, knew how he longed for Peter's demise, yearned for it.

Slightly knodded. "Hook's word is law there. He named himself King." Jane scoffed and turned back to her work with a scowl. "I'll go then. I'm no child, they can't exile me."

"But you're a lost girl!" Slightly exclaimed.

She smiled at him. "But they don't know that." Hesitantly, he returned her grin with a grim smile of his own.

She finished cutting the seams and Slightly hastily threw a towel over his leader's bare midsection as she pulled the tattered breeches away, wanting to preserve the older boy's modesty as well as protecting his own naiveté. Jane did not give it pause.

"I'll tend his side." She said, handing him a freshly soaked rag. "You bathe him."

Slightly nodded, eager to be of assistance. Jane wrinkled her nose as she glanced briefly at the raw flesh of the injury. She placed a hand against Peter's neck, noting how high his fever was. She would have to put a poultice over the wound and draw out the infection. But first she needed to clean it. A tinkling sound caught her attention. Tinkerbell, who had stationed herself on his pillow, softly brushed her hands through his bangs. It was a pitiful sight.

"It's gonna be alright, Tink." Jane murmured distractedly as she gazed down at Peter. And occasional groan parted his lips, and at times his eyes would flicker open briefly as if he wandered through a mild delirium. There were dark circles beneath the thick lashes, and his face looked gaunt and ashen beneath the thin layer of filth that had accumulated there. _Don't let him die. _The prayer went through her mind over and over. _Don't let him die._

Long into the night, they worked over him with only the murmur of an occasional word spoken between them, while in his stupor, Peter groaned and twisted away from the gentle hands that diligently cleaned and worked at his savaged flesh. The muscles jerked in his side as the pain seared through the boy, rousing him momentarily to awareness. He stared with fever-glazed eyes at the small woman bent over him as she stitched the skin back into place. Weakly, he raised his hand from the mattress, reaching out to touch her but the effort cost him much in strength and almost as quickly his arm fell back upon the bed and he retreated back into the soft, dark world of oblivion.

Worry drew her brows together. Jane bit her lip and wished she had some sort of sedative to ease his suffering. She glanced at her assistant, who'd been by her side faithfully throughout the night. He yawned, his eyes bloodshot and worn. But he was a brave little thing, diligent in his work. He slumped with his back against the mattress as he dropped the dirtied rag into the equally disgusting water. Wiping her hands on a towel, she ruffled his hair fondly. "You've been such a big help. Why don't you get some sleep?"

He looked like he might argue but she smiled reassuringly. "The danger is past now; all that's left is covering him up. Go on."

With a shaky nod, Slightly stood and shuffled towards the door where he paused momentarily to glance back at her. Biting his lip, he crossed the room again and hugged her tight, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I'm glad your back." He said quietly. She released a gentle sigh and held him close for a minute. These boys, as old as they were, were still so young. They needed guidance, someone to rely on, someone to take care of them. They needed Peter.

She watched him go, a tired smile tugging at her lips, then went back to work. She laid a poultice over the wound, and then bound it all tightly in order to press the ragged edges of the freshly stitched hole closer together. Once the balm had been applied, Peter rested more easily, having entered into a deep sleep that even her ministering could not disrupt. She moved to his arm, and pressed her fingers around the flaming edges. Thankfully, this wound was not near as bad as the other. It wasn't infected yet, only swollen and even seemed to be trying to heal. The bullet must have only grazed him then. It wouldn't need stitching but she did apply the balm and wrapped it tight.

She washed the dirt from his face and with his cheeks devoid of the grime, he looked more like himself, making her suddenly and acutely conscious of his near nudity. And while she'd just about seen her fair share of half-naked men from working at the hospital, they weren't Peter Pan.

His bronze-hued skin glowed in the dim lamp light. He was so small, she thought, smaller than she remembered. Tiny little blemishes and scars littered his body, a lifetime of living solely in the jungle imprinted on his skin. Wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips and slender legs. He couldn't have been more than twelve, thirteen at best, yet he bore the battle markings of a full grown soldier. She wondered as she laid a fresh sheet over him, if this wasn't the first major injury he'd sustained.

The thought disturbed her and seeing Tinkerbell sleeping peacefully by his ear, she left, seeking the cool night air to calm her jittery nerves. It was a long time before the shaking in her fingers ceased and she was able to sleep.


End file.
